hair and the delicate preciousness of her inner worth, partaking of
a gem and a flower, revealed in every attitude of her person. As the dangers
thickened round the San Tomé mine this illusion acquired force, permanency, and
authority. It claimed him at last! This claim, exalted by a spiritual detachment
from the usual sanctions of hope and reward, made Dr. Monygham's thinking,
acting, individuality extremely dangerous to himself and to others, all his
scruples vanishing in the proud feeling that his devotion was the only thing
that stood between an admirable woman and a frightful disaster.
    It was a sort of intoxication which made him utterly indifferent to Decoud's
fate, but left his wits perfectly clear for the appreciation of Decoud's
political idea. It was a good idea - and Barrios was the only instrument of its
realization. The doctor's soul, withered and shrunk by the shame of a moral
disgrace, became implacable in the expansion of its tenderness. Nostromo's
return was providential. He did not think of him humanely, as of a
fellow-creature just escaped from the jaws of death. The Capataz for him was the
only possible messenger to Cayta. The very man. The doctor's misanthropic
mistrust of mankind (the bitterer because based on personal failure) did not
lift him sufficiently above common weaknesses. He was under the spell of an
established reputation. Trumpeted by Captain Mitchell, grown in repetition, and
fixed in general assent, Nostromo's faithfulness had never been questioned by
Dr. Monygham as a fact. It was not likely to be questioned now he stood in
desperate need of it himself. Dr. Monygham was human; he accepted the popular
conception of the Capataz's incorruptibility simply because no word or fact had
ever contradicted a mere affirmation. It seemed to be a part of the man, like
his whiskers or his teeth. It was impossible to conceive him otherwise. The
question was whether he would consent to go on such a dangerous and desperate
errand. The doctor was observant enough to have become aware from the first of
something peculiar in the man's temper. He was no doubt sore about the loss of
the silver.
    »It will be necessary to take him into my fullest confidence,« he said to
himself, with a certain acuteness of insight into the nature he had to deal
with.
    On Nostromo's side the silence had been full of black irresolution, anger,
and mistrust. He was the first to break it, however.
    »The swimming was no great matter,« he said. »It